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HANSI THE STORK 

By 

Oscar Ludmann 


Illustrated by 
Emma L. Brock 


ALBERT-VWHITAAAN 
& 4< CO 

CHICAGO 

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Copyright 1932 by Albert Whitman & Company 
Chicago, U. S. A. 


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Printed in U. S. A. 

22 1932 

Gift 56640 




Dedicated To 

JEANNE CLARA LUDMANN 


INTRODUCTION 


Alsace-Lorraine, that fertile little country, imparts by 
its name alone the idea of political unrest, bitter fighting, 
and changes in nationality. Since the beginnings of history, 
the inhabitants of this borderland have struggled and suf¬ 
fered, while mightier neighbors looked on with envious eyes. 

The nationality of Alsace-Lorraine has changed and 
changed again, but this has not been able to alter the spirit 
of the Alsatian people, nor the symbol of their country — 
the stork. On the slender steeples of medieval domes, on 
humble Protestant village churches, and on the glorious 
French cathedrals of worship, not only is there the cross 
of the Gallic cock, but surely there will be a wagon wheel 
on which the stork family has built its nest. 

Motionless, standing on one leg, the gracious birds look 
down upon busy humanity. They know that Alsace-Lor¬ 
raine is their country, and that no one will ever harm them. 
When the morning sun rises bright and warm above the 
hilltops, the stork clappers with his beak as if to awaken the 
sleepers. At night he glides in wide circles high, high up in 
the air, as if to watch over the community below. 

When the long winter months are over, the stork will 
appear one day in his summer home, clappering lustily with 


6 



his beak. Excited villagers will rub their hands and exlaim 
joyously, “It wont be long any wore—Spring is here!" 

Throughout the whole warm season Father and Mother 
Stork will live up on the church tower and one morning 
there will be an especially early and noisy awakening. From 
underneath the black-tipped white wings of Mother Stork 
three or four hungry little red beaks will cry for food. 

When the gay-colored leaves begin to fall in the cool 
autumn breeze, the whole stork family will stand motion¬ 
less on the edge of the church roof, their long bills pointing 
southward. The air will tremble as thousands of the birds 
clapper together a “good-bye" and like great snowflakes 
take leave of Alsace-Lorraine to fly across the Mediterranean. 

Time passes. The weather vane disappears from the 
roofs of Alsatian houses; the eagle has rotted away. But 
there will still remain the wagon wheel with the stork nest. 
Generations have gone by. Old feuds have been buried. 
Emblems of nations have changed over and over again. 

But the real national symbol of Alsace-Lorraine is a 
living bird, the stork. And there is no worse disgrace to a 
true Alsatian than to belong to a community “where not 
even a stork wants to stay!" 

* * * 

Oscar Ludmann. 


7 



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HANSI THE STORK 


I 

HANSI AND YERRI 


%\ ^ ERRI tiptoed along the low stone 
wall. He got down on his knees 
and peeped through a knothole of 
the heavy oak gate, and smiled. There, on 
the granite border of the well stood Hansi 
the stork. 

It was always refreshing and cool in the 
shadow of the huge chestnut tree, and 
Hansi was taking a nap. 


9 



One of his long legs was drawn up 
under his right wing and his beak was hid¬ 
den in the soft feathers of his back. 

‘Til surprise him/' Yerri thought, and he 
chuckled to himself. “I’ll just keep my 
shoes in my hand and creep very quietly up 
to him. Then I’ll put this fat frog under 
his nose!” 

But Yerri was too excited. He dropped 
one of his wooden shoes! Up went the 
stork and rushed toward the gate. 

When he saw Yerri he was so happy that 
he clappered his beak together and made a 
loud noise like the sound of a drum. Then 


10 





















he watched with his sharp brown eyes to 
see what Yerri would do. 

“Here, Hansi, see what I brought you,” 
and Yerri took a frog out of the deep 
pocket of his black apron. 

The stork cocked his head over to one 
side, first to the right and then to the left. 
He could very well judge what a big frog 
it was by the fat green legs kicking and 
struggling between Yerri's fingers. 

Then he drew his beak far back ready to 
catch it. But when Yerri opened his hand, 
that clumsy frog didn't jump out. Instead, 
it sat still and began to croak loudly. 


12 














It was one of those arrogant, plump mud 
frogs that was very much pleased by its 
own singing. At last, Yerri had to give it 
a push and “Hop!" down it jumped. 

Hansi was watching. He let the frog get 
quite a distance away, then he looked at 
Yerri as if to say, “All right; now we’re 
ready!” 

Together they started to run. Just as 
Yerri put out his hand to catch it, Hansi 
struck forward with his long red beak, 
quick as a flash. 

He swallowed hard, and the frog disap¬ 
peared down his graceful, long, white neck. 


14 




































II 

HOW GRANDFATHER FOUND HANSI 

“Well, Yerri,” Grandfather called, smil¬ 
ing, from the window. “I see that Hansi 
has had his breakfast. Now come in and 
eat yours!” 

Yerri ran up the three stone steps right 
into the big kitchen. His grandfather lifted 
him up and kissed him good morning. 

At the sink he washed his hands under 
the ice cold water of the pump. “Plump!” 
grunted the pump when the handle went 
down, and “schll . . . schll!” when the 
water was sucked up. 


16 






















































Yerri always liked to be at that pump 
just underneath the narrow window. 
Through the red and white checkered cur¬ 
tains he could see the steep church tower 
and the stork nest on top. 

Now, as he stood there, one of the big 
birds was sitting in the nest with her beak 
pointed up in the air. She was clappering 
a welcome to Father Stork. 

He was flying down to her in circles, and 
looked like a white speck high, high up in 
the sky. 

“Grandfather!” Yerri called, all excited. 
“Look! Why does not Hansi fly off some- 


18 





















times? It must be wonderful to be so high 
up.” 

“I will tell you about Hansi, and why 
he doesn’t fly,” Grandfather answered. 

He set Yerri on a high oak chest so that 
he could reach up to the table. Yerri drank 
his warm milk from a big hand-painted 
bowl, and ate his thick slice of bread spread 
with butter and honey. 

The clock on the wall started to buzz, 
then a tiny wooden bird came out and 
peeped eight times, “Cuckoo-oo, cuckoo- 
oo!” 

When it had gone back into its house on 


20 



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top of the clock, Grandfather told Yerri 
the story. 

“Two years ago this summer I stood 
under the church tower looking up at the 
Stork family. I saw Father Stork fly down 
with a long snake. Three hungry little 
storks opened their mouths, but the snake 
was very lively and slipped down the roof. 

“Hansi crawled out of the nest and 
hopped after it, but when he came to the 
edge of the roof—there he slipped and fell 
down! 

“Poor Hansi lay on the ground with a 
broken wing, never to fly again. So I 


22 








brought him home and he is surely thank¬ 
ful to me. He likes you, too, because you 
are good to him.” 

Yerri finished his breakfast and carried 
the empty dishes to the sink. Then he 
went out of doors to find his playmate. 



24 


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Ill 

HANSI AS A WATCHDOG 

The bell on the gate rang and Yerri ran 
to see who was there. But Hansi rushed 
ahead of him. A ragged-looking tramp 
had entered. 

The stork stood in front of him and 
made a loud clappering noise with his 
beak, like the sound of a bass drum. He 
was very angry. His feathers bristled up 
and he walked closer to the tramp. 

When the stranger lifted a knotty stick 


26 

































ready to strike, Yerri was frightened him¬ 
self. 

“Out of my way!" the tramp growled, 
and down came his stick. 

But Hansi was not afraid. He drew back 
his hard red beak, then he grabbed the 
tramp by the hand. 

“OUCH!" the tramp cried. 

But Hansi did not stop. Again and 
again he struck out, now at the arms, now 
at the legs, until the tramp turned and ran 
out through the gate. 

Grandfather didn't need to keep a watch¬ 
dog. Hansi would let no strangers in. 


28 










































IV 

HIDE AND GO SEEK 

The trouble was quickly forgotten, and 
Hansi chased Yerri around the yard. After 
a while they were out of breath. Hansi 
rested on the wall of the well, and Yerri 
went outside the gate. 

He peeked through the knothole, and 
Hansi cocked his head over to one side to 
look with his sharp eyes. But he did not 
move. 

Then Yerri opened the gate a crack, and 
Hansi rushed to meet him. Instead of com- 


30 





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ing in, Yerri let the gate slam shut and 
laughed. 

“Try and find me!" he called out to 
Hansi. 

He crawled along the stone wall and 
came to the wooden fence outside the 
garden. There was a board missing, and 
Yerri looked through. 

He could see Hansi still waiting at the 
gate under the archway. Then he crept 
very quietly through the broken place in 
the fence. 

But he was hardly inside when Hansi 
saw him and came rushing. Yerri tried to 


32 










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get out again, but was not quick enough. 
Hansi held him by the seat of his trousers, 
and dragged him in with all his might. 

He was surely strong, too, so Yerri was 
the loser. This is the way they played 
“hide-and-go-seek.” 

When the sun went down behind the 
hills, painting the steep roofs in gold and 
leaving the yard in a deep shadow, Yerri 
knew it was time to rest. The church-bell 
rang for prayer-time. Everybody in the 
village took off their caps and said a little 
prayer, so Yerri did too. The chickens 
went to their coops. 


34 






But the noisy geese did not want to go 
to sleep. Yerri picked up a stick to drive 
them to the barn. The stubborn gander 
hissed at Yerri and tried to bite his leg. 

Then Hansi came to help. He picked 
feathers out of the gander’s tail and made 
such a loud noise clappering his beak, that 
all the geese ran into the poultry barn. 

Up on the church tower the two storks 
settled down to rest, and Hansi went to his 
favorite place at the well. 

Yerri went to bed too, and huddled 
himself deep and warm in the feather bed, 
underneath the checkered covering. 


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V 

THE FOUR NEW STORKS 
One bright morning, Yerri woke up 
with a jump. Never before had he heard 
so much clappering from the storks up on 
the church tower. He ran to his window 
to see what was going on. 

High up in the air the two big storks 
were flying in circles above their nest. 
They would dive down and then float in 
the air with outstretched wings, all the 
time drumming with their beaks. 

Yerri could see four wide-open, tiny red 
bills between the twigs of the nest. In the 


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yard Hansi rushed back and forth, also 
clappering with his beak to show how 
glad he was that a brood of young storks 
had arrived. 

While Yerri and Hansi played under the 
chestnut tree at the well, the baby storks 
were growing up. When the fall wind 
rustled through the red and yellow leaves, 
and when the prickly burrs of the chest¬ 
nuts broke open, the little storks were quite 
big. 

Once in a while one crawled to the edge 
of the nest, drew up one leg like the old 
ones, and looked down into the village. 


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VI 

THE LITTLE ONES LEARN TO FLY 
At night, Father Stork and Mother Stork 
stood motionless on the roof beside the 
nest and watched over their young ones. 

One morning, there were six beautiful 
storks lined up like soldiers on parade. 
First two of them flew up elegantly and 
the rest followed, fluttering awkwardly. 

The young storks were flying out for the 
first time. Yerri could see which were the 
young ones because they did not pull their 
legs against their stomachs but kicked as 
if to catch a foothold somewhere. 


42 










Hansi grew more and more excited and 
once when a young stork rested on a 
branch of the chestnut tree, he ran up and 
down in front of it. 

Then he pointed his beak far up in the 
air and drummed softly as if to invite the 
other to come down and play with him. 

Hansi acted just as the storks do in 
springtime when they come to their old 
home and choose their mates. Hansi made 
such deep bows to the stork in the tree that 
his beak touched the ground. 

But he begged in vain. The young stork 
flew back to the roof. 


44 






























VII 

THEIR MIGRATION TO AFRICA 

When Hansi went at night to his resting 
place and Yerri went to bed, the cold 
October wind whistled over the roof and 
the weather vane squeaked. The storks 
stood motionless all night through, wait¬ 
ing for the sun to rise. 

The young ones looked just like the old 
ones now, sharply outlined against the sky, 
their bills pointed southward. 

46 






One day, Yerri’s grandfather took him 
by the hand. 

“Come with me,” he said. “I want you 
to see a wonderful sight.” 

Together they went over to the church. 
Up in the sky there were dark swarms of 
small birds flying south. 

“Those birds are migrating, Yerri,” 
Grandfather explained. “Winter is coming 
and the snow will cover the whole country. 
There won’t be any flies or caterpillars, nor 
anything for them to eat. So they fly away 
to a warmer country.” 

“Do the storks go too?” Yerri asked. 


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“Oh, yes! That is why I am taking you 
up in the church tower. You will see them 
meet for the long trip across the Mediter¬ 
ranean. 

“I wish Hansi could fly, too. He is 
always dreary when he is left alone in the 
winter. . . . Come, here we can climb up to 
the tower.” 

Up the spiral stairway they went, higher 
and higher. They passed by the great 
wheels of the clock. Yerri peeked through 
a small, Gothic window. 

“Look, Grandfather! How far I can 
see!” 


50 


















“Come on/’ Grandfather urged. ”We 
must go higher and then you can look 
right into the stork’s nest—where Hansi 
was born. Give me your hand now.” 

They climbed up a steep ladder. At last 
they stopped between the big church bell 
and the immense oak beams. 

The wind whistled around them. Bats 
were hanging by their feet from the beams, 
and from one dark corner an owl stared at 
them with glaring eyes. 

“Let’s go down again,” Yerri begged. 

“Come, don’t be frightened. Look out 
here, but hold on tight.” 


52 







"I can see the wagon wheel with the nest 
on it/' Yerri said. “Who put the wheel 
there, Grandfather?" 

“Every village wants a stork to make his 
nest there, Yerri. It is the sign of peace— 
the sign of our country. 

“So they put the wheel up because it is 
easy for a stork to weave his nest through 
the spokes. No stork will ever go in a place 
where the people are not good to him." 

“Look, Grandfather!" Yerri interrupted. 
“Look at all those storks down in the 
swamp. Here comes another flock. See! 
Just over our heads, six are flying. They 


54 



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are OUR storks! Where are they all 
going?” 

“Straight south,” Grandfather answered. 
“Thousands of them will meet in that 
swamp, then they will fly to meet other 
flocks from the valleys of the Rhine and 
from all over Alsace-Lorraine. Together 
they will cross the Mediterranean into 
Africa. 

“Look out there now. Can you imagine 
how little our village looks in the eyes of 
a stork? 

“Yet, every year they come back and find 
their own nests. It would take us days on 


56 


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a fast train to go that far; it would take a 
week on a steamboat!" 

Like a cloud of snowflakes the white 
birds hovered over the swamp. There was 
a thundering noise when they all clappered 
with their beaks. They were saying, 
"Goodbye." 

Down in the yard Hansi was running 
back and forth. He, too, fluttered a good¬ 
bye with his good wing, and clappered 
noisily with his beak. But he was very sad. 

When the storks had flown southward, 
far out of sight, he climbed up on the wall 
of the well, drew up one leg and hid his 


58 



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head under his wing. He did not want to 
play even with Yerri. 

“It is hard for Hansi to stay here,” 
Grandfather said. “In the cold winter he 
stands behind the stove in our kitchen most 
of the time, I think he dreams about sunny 
Africa. Sometimes he goes outside and 
stalks through the deep snow, but not for 
long. 

“When the mice come into the house and 
gnaw and scratch, he is on the watch. 
There is no crack or hole which Hansi does 
not discover. 

“He will wait for hours until some tiny 


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nose sniffs the air cautiously, then he 
strikes quickly and the mouse doesn’t steal 
any more. 

“When winter is over and the other 
storks come back, then you will catch frogs 
for Hansi again and he will be the same 
good friend and playmate.” 



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